


Poster Boy

by HeatherTN



Series: Vignettes and Standalones [2]
Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:30:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatherTN/pseuds/HeatherTN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camille finds out some very surprising secrets about Richard's past after his shack is burgled while the team (including Richard believe it or not!) are enjoying an afternoon at the beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

All characters in this tale are the property of Red Planet Productions/Robert Thorogood. I’m just borrowing ‘em for a spot of fangirly liming and will send ‘em back after supper. Other original characters are mine.

 

It was bad enough that Detective Inspector Richard Poole, late of the Metropolitan Police, Croydon Branch Homicide Division, had somehow allowed himself to be persuaded in being dragged to a beach for a ‘bbq’ and a swim with his colleagues of the Royal Saint-Marie Police. Never mind having to change into a tight pair of brightly coloured ‘board shorts’ borrowed from Dwayne Myers, since Poole had (deliberately) neglected to either bring a pair back with him on his last foray to the UK, or purchase some in one of the many tourist shops of the town of Honoré, Saint-Marie island’s capital town.

Or having to again run across blisteringly hot sand with his pale white European body slathered in factor 50 sunscreen. This was the last thing he had wanted to do. He was under no illusions about his looks, pale, pale with more pale, a head of thinning hair and in his opinion, skinny legs. Richard was fit enough in the sense he did exercise but was not exactly the the best example of beach physique and fully expected at some point to have sand kicked in his face. However he was relieved by the reaction of his colleagues. Apart from a first brief stare they continued with their activities without comment or notice. But *he* noticed and was embarrassed, but decided to be brave none the less.

After all whether he cared to admit it or not Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey , Fidel Best – now also a sergeant - and police officer Dwayne Myers, who showed no ambition at all but was a very good ‘street cop’ all the same – had gradually turned from colleagues to friends over the 8 months or so Richard had been stationed in Honoré. The least he could do now was try his level best to be more sociable. Of course it went deeper in regards to one member of his team. The object of Richard’s discomfort and desire - not that he would *EVER* admit to it and who had been the cause of a few sleepless nights - had flown past him in to the sea, wearing the same micro-tiny bikini he had first seen her in when investigating his first case.

Richard had not taken too much notice of Camille in her bikini back then as he had been more intent in apprehending her as a suspect in the Charlie Hulme case. Now he could not fail to notice her fine athletic long legged physique as she splashed in to the water and then smoothly dive under the waves. His relief on albeit gingerly entering the balmy waters, was not so much escaping the heat of the Sun but also in dampening another type of heat of which Richard was doing his best to ignore.

No, the worst bit was now, stuck naked behind a bush where he had nipped to change back into his clothes. This part of the beach was meant to be secluded, private, only the small group but no one had noticed or even considered there could have been others. He had left his bundle of clothes to one side as he stripped off the very tight trunks and started to dry himself. But a sudden movement had made him jump. Turning swiftly round to the direction of the noise, Poole let out a strangled cry as his clothes suddenly disappeared into the foliage. He dived towards the spot, yelling even louder as the more sensitive parts of his body connected to the prickly undergrowth that protruded up through the sand. He then heard more rustling, and on turning his head saw that Dwayne’s board shorts had also disappeared. His yell had also been heard by the others and they had quickly rounded the bush to find their Chief lying face down, naked on the said prickly sand.

Richard heard a cough which made him lift up his head up, to be confronted with Fidel staring wide eyed down at him. Dwayne was also standing there open mouthed and Camille’s (oh, God! He was naked in front of Camille!) eyes wide for a moment, then one eyebrow raising and a sly smile growing on her lips. When Richard glared back, all three then moved around to the other side of the bush in order to give their chief some sort of privacy.

“Some bloody idiot has stolen my clothes!” Poole’s embarrassment was now giving way to sheer rage as he stood up, his face puce with anger.

“Chief, why not put my board shorts back on?”

“Because Dwayne, I am sorry to say, those have gone too!”

Dwayne groaned loudly. The board shorts had cost him a pretty penny on the internet from a California based company.

His thoughts were broken by Richard’s increasingly loud rant.

“Well don’t just stand there all of you! Help me find my clothes! My keys are in my jacket!!”

Camille turned round, her arms folded for a moment then waving her hands round in a sweep, her head cocked and with a scowl.

“Ok then, where do you suggest we start?”

Richard could see what she had meant, as he noted the large expanse of green and dry sand that did not hold footprints. The fact did not go down too well as he also began to feel the sting of the sun on his back. The factor 50 was wearing off and he just knew he would be ‘lobster’ by supper. The horror of having his clothes stolen, the sheer embarrassment of being naked in front of his colleagues and now being microwaved by the hot Caribbean sun got a little too much for Richard. He sank back down on to the sand with a loud groan, his head in his hands.

 

As much as Camille felt sorry for Richard with what had happened, by the time they had got him back to the shack his non-stop ranting made her want to silence him with a big stick.

“..my lightest suit too!! Of all the bloody cheek! And that part of the beach was supposed to be secluded! You all reassured me it would be safe! Well fine bloody lot of use that was…!”

Dwayne also had by now begun to lose patience “..eh Chief, don’t forget my board shorts went too! Cost me fifty dollars, got them all the way from California..”

The bickering ceased as the car arrived at Richard’s shack. Pulling up beside the building, Fidel was the first to state what had caused Richard to groan yet again.

“The side doors are open….”

Richard scrambled from the ancient Land Rover, difficult to do as he was also trying his level best to maintain what tiny shreds of dignity he had left with a gaudy beach towel, running up the steps on to the wrap around verandah and froze as he peered in. The place had been well and truly trashed. The wardrobe had been pulled over, the bed on its side, papers all over the place. Resisting the urge to barge right in, Poole took a step back as Fidel appeared beside him.

“Stop right where you all are!” he commanded, “this is now a crime scene!” before visibly sagging.

The front porch doors had been smashed, the side doors opposite had the windows broken yet the entrance where Poole was standing appeared to be undamaged. He reasoned that whoever had done this, must have used the keys, plus the fact the other doors had all been forced outwards.

Stepping back and turning to face his colleagues, Richard quietly asked “..can anyone loan me some clothes..?”


	2. Chapter 2

It took some time to calm Richard down, but eventually it was Fidel who managed to persuade him to go back into the car and wait while he, Camille and Dwayne set up an impromptu scene of crime area. Despite the one police car being used to ferry the team on an impromptu afternoon out, some of the investigative equipment was stored in the back of the Defender, including Fidel’s camera, finger printing kit, gloves, tape and other paraphernalia. After about an hour Richard was allowed to gingerly enter his home. His first task was to hopefully find some clothing, cancel credit cards, and work out what had been damaged and stolen.

“They must have had some form of transport to get here quickly. We were not that far behind.” He called out from behind the door of the shack's tiny bathroom. The bamboo screen lifted and the door opened.

“I don’t remember hearing or seeing any vehicles in the area….” Camille replied, her eyes casually roaming around the living area, “…but there is another access road back behind the tree line. Whoever did this could have had a vehicle of some sort there? Either way, this must have happened not long before we arrived.”

Richard emerged attired in his usual trousers and white shirt, but wearing some of Dwayne’s flip-flops as his leather shoes had disappeared. Camille had expected Richard to still be angry and ranting, but given any crime scene even if that being of his own residence, he had slipped in to his logical analysis mode while making notes about what was damaged and stolen. Camille had also begun to notice he was not so much calm but subdued. Handing Camille the list, Richard’s voice was quiet.

“I think I can fully understand how someone can feel violated after their home has been burgled.” He said, a look of sorrow momentarily passing over his face “not much has been taken, some clothing and other personal items. Here you are Camille.”

Camille received the list of contents that Richard had noted down as missing. She looked up at him seeing his downcast features and if she didn’t know any better, could have sworn Richard looked almost close to tears.

“Are you alright Richard..?” She extended a hand towards his shoulder but thought better of it. Whilst she and Richard Poole had definitely become closer in this last little while, there were still boundaries she felt she could not completely cross with him. Right now it would be all too easy to damage what trust he had built up with her.

He looked up sadly.

“Yes, yes, I’ll be fine. Just need to tidy up and get those doors secured.”

Camille’s heart did a tiny lurch. It wasn’t often she saw Richard’s more vulnerable side even though he had began to open up to her a little more recently. The most revealing occasions about his past included being beaten by a nun at his boarding school, the bullying that the  _morceau de merde_ Doug Anderson, an ex colleague of Richard’s, had subjected Richard to when he had turned up in Saint-Marie, and the night she and Richard had been trapped in the University of Gaudeloupe sub-station during a tropical storm.

He had told her on both of the first two occasions how he had been bullied and also how he had felt he had never quite pleased his father. Camille had come to understand the reasons why Poole had been re-assigned to Saint-Marie. For all his brilliance, she suspected that he was considered somewhat of an embarrassment because of his anti-social and literal traits and as a legacy from Doug Anderson’s successful marginalizing of his colleague.

She doubted if Richard would ever be fully able to relax but after the scolding she had given him during the Nadia Salim case - about why the team had stopped asking him to join them after work because he never accepted the invites - he had obviously taken that on board and had started to make more of an effort to join in. But she suspected for all he was trying, he would always be someone who preferred his own company and be uncomfortable in social situations.

Looking at Richard quietly surveying his wrecked shack, she could well understand how it was so hard for him to trust others with his inner feelings. So the fact he had started to open up to her gave her a warm feeling inside. What ever happened, Camille was determined to get herself more under Richard's skin while not admitting it wasn't just all for the sake of friendship but also the fact he was starting to get under her skin too and into her heart.


	3. Chapter 3

Richard sighed, his head was pounding. He hated a mess at the best of times but this was getting a little too much. He was considering heading back into town and staying in a hotel overnight, but the first rule of any burglary was that the buggers would always come back.

His thoughts were interrupted by a call from Fidel.

“Sir, I think there’s some of your stuff over here!”

Richard stuck his head out of one of the glassless windows. Fidel had been looking around the vicinity of the bungalow searching for any available clues and had noticed a pile of what appeared to be some rags poking out from behind one of the few palm trees around the building. Richard exited through one of the broken side doors, and trotted down the steps of the wrap around veranda that had recently been extended around the small shack.

Once there, it became apparent that the 'rags' were, in fact, another one of Richard’s suits plus a trail of other items scattered either side of the road. It was with no little embarrassment to Richard that some of his underwear was hanging off various bushes and highly visible to his team who had joined him. Snatching a pair of boxers from Camille who had picked them up off the sand and who had started to twirl them around her index finger, Richard walked back to the shack to collect a container.

Camille grinned at his grumbling and stamping back to the shack. Turning back to where Poole’s belongings had been strewn, she decided to be kind and that any undergarment collecting should be left to her boss.

Pushing aside foliage, Camille found a cardboard box on its side, the contents spilling out under the bush. Crouching down and peering she found various photograph albums, old vinyl records and what appeared to be a calendar. She sat back up and pulled a pair of latex gloves from the back pocket of her jeans. After righting up the box, which was thankfully intact, Camille began to carefully pick up each item, dusting off sand and debris and placing them back in to the box. But as she did so, her search slowed as she began to examine each item more closely. Her mouth began to drop at the selection of records, because for all the Richard had bemoaned modern music, the collection was anything but 'classical'.

One album caught her eye as she swept the sand away. The group name she recognised although Camille had never really listened to British Rock. Some stemmed back to a time which would have been in Richard’s boyhood, she had remembered telling her about being fourteen in 1984, so was puzzled at one album called ‘Dark Side of The Moon’ by Pink Floyd, as that had been released almost a decade before.  She found another record, ‘Telegraph Road’ by a group called Dire Straits and others that did not match Richard’s usual preference in music.

She then picked up one of photograph albums, shook the sand off that then quickly looking around her to check no one was close, cautiously opened it. Her eyes widened and softened at the sight of a young boy growing as the pages progressed. Some of the photos were faded, but it was all there, Christmases, birthdays, family outings, looking very sad by the doors of an old brick building in a uniform of a blazer, short trousers, a cap and a large suitcase. Behind him stood a middle aged looking couple, the man who Camille guessed was Richard’s father looked proudly on but the woman, definitely Richard’s mother as he looked so much like her, did not appear to be so happy. There was also a partially obstructed sign with ‘..Boarding School for Boys Est 1899’ in solid white lettering.

As the pages went on, there were various photos of school teams – cricket, rugby and so on. But one thing Camille found very obvious, there were not many of Richard with friends of his own age. A wave of sadness came over her as each photo seemed to be too structured, formal, even the ones of family outings. Certainly, Richard did not seem to lack for material things but smiles were very fixed and too often friends appeared at times to be non-existent.

Camille turned the page again. Now Richard was more grown, a teenager and there was ‘Lucy’ his precision optical telescope. In those pictures he seemed to be very happy and had his arm draped over the item. There were little cards, notes and photos of a group all dressed up in knitted hats, scarves, taken at night. She loved a photo of Richard looking through Lucy at the sky. It was beautiful picture obviously taken by a professional as the stars above were quite visible.

She was reaching the end of the album. The boy was now turning in to a man, pictures of Richard on stage in his school uniform receiving some sort of award, then a group, picture to which he stood to one side. On the last page was a letter, an admissions letter accepting Richard on a scholarship to St Catherine's College, Cambridge.

Carefully placing the photograph album in the box, Camille then reached for the calendar partially buried in the sand. She pulled it out and held it up to let the sand fall off it. ‘St Catherine's 1989 Rag Week’ was scrawled on the front. Some of the pages slipped and the calendar fell open to August. Camille’s jaw dropped wide open at the picture it revealed...

It was none other than a nineteen year old Richard Poole with blond hair, an earring and a very cheeky grin. What made her gasp even louder was the fact he was naked except for a thin college scarf coiled over the groin of a very handsome well defined body!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning This chapter is a little sad.

Camille shook her head. She had been ogling so much at the picture, she had not heard the approaching footsteps behind her until almost too late. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Richard approach but he was still occupied with snatching garments from the surrounding bushes and trees. Quickly gathering what she could and placing the items back in the box, she hid the calendar underneath the photo albums and records she had picked up, and putting on her best serious face, called out to Richard.

“Over here! I found this box! There are some things in the sand. Did you want me to..?”

Richard had walked up to her, saw the box and had paled a little. He coughed.

“Thank you Camille, I’ll deal with that if you don’t mind...”

He had swooped down and started to pick up the box. Camille leaned backwards to give him room, but as she did, her arm slipped and she fell to her side, knocking Richard’s leg which in turn sent him off balance and the box falling from his hands.

Camille could only stare as the contents spilled back out on to the sand, with the calendar falling open. Richard quickly snatched it in to his arms looking mortified. As much as Camille had kept a straight face and tried to pretend that she had not already seen the contents, one in particular, she could tell that he just knew she had.

Quietly, Camille helped pick up the rest of the contents, placed them back into the box and held it up to Richard. At the same time she took the calendar out of his hands, placed it on the top as he took the box from her. Looking him right in the eye she whispered

“I won’t tell anyone about ‘August’, but I want to hear *all* of the story behind it!”

With a wink, she left an even more mortified Richard with his box of secrets with another parting whisper in his ear of “by the way don’t you worry, you still have _un beau corps_ , Sir...”

All Richard could do was groan again.

 

It took another couple of hours but eventually all that could have been found in the vicinity of the shack had been gathered up. A call from the local bank had confirmed someone had tried to draw cash from an ATM unbelievably close to the police station and the evidence was available on CCTV. Leaving Richard to guard his home, Camille, Dwayne and Fidel headed back to town.

Sitting down at the small table come desk, Richard quietly started sorting through the stack of paper that had been picked up from around the shack. Most were odds and ends, bills, letters, notes and the like. He was grateful there was nothing confidential or revealing about any of the cases the team were working on as he tended to bring a lot of his work home to fill the hours.

What surprised him even more was the fact his laptop was still untouched in the bottom draw of the dresser. Obviously apart from the ‘joy’ of trashing the place, the thieves were obviously bright enough or not too stoned to go after anything not on show. Sadly for Richard, his wallet was on show as he did not want to risk losing it at the beach, presuming he would be ok, just taking his keys with him and had left it on the table. They were obviously not so bright since they had tried to use one of his cards to draw cash.

“You Berk!” He loudly chastised to himself as he picked Lucy up off the floor, grateful at least that she had not been swiped as well. The weight of the instrument had made it inconvenient enough for Lucy to have only been dragged to the door. Checking the instrument over, Richard was sad to see the view finder was cracked, but at least that could be repaired.

Now of course, the whole atmosphere of the shack had changed with Richard realising just how vulnerable the tiny house actually was. While being isolated away from the noise of Honoré was one of the few pleasant advantages of this place, Richard suddenly realised how vulnerable he was too. When he had been struck down with a fever a few months before, if it happened in the UK no one would have missed him that was for sure. But here, Fidel had been worried enough about Richard's unexplained absence, the young officer had come looking. Richard was convinced if he were in the UK, he would still be in bed and off his head to this day.

His attention returned to the cardboard box placed on the bed and Richard wondered just how much Camille had actually seen of its contents because she was *too* calm when he dropped it. Apart from Lucy, the box was the only real keepsake of his past that Richard had.

Lifting out the photo albums that had been hastily piled in, Richard carefully placed them side by side in his bed. Next he pulled out the record collection he never told anyone about preferring they only saw his ‘classical’ side. It wasn’t even as if he particularly liked the music, but they had been a reminder that at some point in his life, he had been willing to try new and different things, when he had dared to try and *be* different.

Then of course there was the calendar which had been put aside first, done as part of a bet that he had lost, evidence of his greatest dare and a huge lift as well. He had *almost* broken out of being introverted, rude and literal as a shield – he was not unaware of his faults and short comings, but they had helped to bury the pain of his past too – but could not quite manage it.

Richard sat heavily on the side of the bed, carefully placing the calendar beside him. He knew Camille would badger him about its contents, but right now he couldn’t care less.

And for the first time in nearly two decades, his vision started to blur as tears welled up in his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. I could go on but feels it needs to end here. Hope you've enjoyed this little tale. Please feel free to comment. Now on to the next fic :)

Camille parked her small Renault close to the shack. The sun was dipping below the horizon but no lights were shining from the porch nor from inside the building itself. 

Quietly rounding the back of the house, Camille carefully made her way up the steps of the new wrap around veranda. Peering in through the hastily repaired doorway, she saw Richard sat on his bed not moving, his head down and his shoulders slumped. She knocked on the door frame and he looked up.

“Richard, are you alright?”

He sighed.

“Look Camille, if you’ve come back to gloat then please, let’s get it over and done with shall we? I know you’ve seen what’s in that calendar!” Richard had now got up and had started to pace around the room, “ and I bet everything else! Why the hell can’t people just...!”

“Richard, RICHARD! Calm down! I’ve not come to ‘gloat’ as you call it. I just wanted to see if you’re ok, that’s all.” Camille said sharply as she walked into the shack and headed to the bedside table to turn on the lamp. 

Richard looked up at her. 

“But you’re curious, right?” He said quietly.

Camille moved over to the side table that doubled as a desk and sat down on one of the wooden chairs.

“Yes, I am curious Richard. I also looked in one of your photograph albums and I am surprised at the records as well. I thought you didn’t like modern music? But I am not here to tease you. I can do that at work!” She said, smiling.

Richard looked up at her. He had come to trust Camille more of late, divulging snippets of his past life to her. He had once boasted about being an open book, until Camille had asked about what he had hidden in the tin, in the left hand drawer of his desk. He wasn’t such an open book though. Some of the pages of that book were too painful to reveal, and he was facing the fact his life had definitely not gone the way he had expected or hoped. 

Yet with her, it seemed not so difficult. She always listened when it mattered and took in everything he had told her about his boarding school, Doug Anderson and his father. It was obvious she cared enough to support him, they all did, but with Camille he had found himself drawn to her, more than he cared to admit.

But this was different. The contents of the box contained the entire story of his life and because she had seen some of it, he felt exposed now in front of her. Not even being naked in front of her and the team felt this embarrassing. No, not embarrassing, frightening.

“All right. The calendar was the result of a bet I lost. I had to get blind drunk to do it but I haven’t regretted it. My time at college was probably the only time I have ever felt well, you know, free? I’m not sure I am making any sense here..” 

Camille nodded and continued to listen, not saying a word. Richard continued.

“I thought I could well, be different. Join in more, be a little radical. God knows why.”

“But you looked happy in that picture, really happy, not just drunk.” Camille replied.

“Glad you think so, I don’t remember much about it when it happened. Mind you, although I say so myself, it was *ahem* well appreciated. I think it even helped me get my first girlfriend!” Richard began to blush.

Camille giggled, and could feel the tension easing in the room. He was starting to be quite candid now, and she dare not do or say anything that could put Richard off. But she had to ask.

“I am not surprised. Trust me, you looked very handsome! Tell me about her.”

“You’re not surprised? I assume everyone thinks I’m not capable so I’m rather pleased you said that!” Richard replied, smiling now. Camille loved that smile.

“Go on” 

“Ok, well her name was Suzanne. She was a year ahead of me studying to be an archaeologist. Lovely girl too and well liked, so I never imagined I would ever stand a chance. Apparently she bought ten calendars to give to her friends – we had made them to sell for charity – and they wanted to meet the ‘models’, so we had a social in the student’s union bar and things went on from there.” 

“Did you date her for long?”

“Yes, for about a year. Then she graduated and went off to Rome to work, never heard from her again.” Richard paused, “she was very much like you in a way, confident, open, sometimes...well..never mind, anyway I’m glad she went on to better things.”

At that, he began to look very sad again.

“You must have loved her very much.” Camille responded.

Richard looked up at her.

“Yes, I did. She tried hard to get me to ‘loosen’ up a little by giving me those records over there. They’re not my sort of music but I listen to them from time to time, well the CD’s of them as I don’t have a decent record player.”

This was a whole new side to Richard which was opening up to her. Before, when she would tease him about love he would usually clam up and bluster about not understanding the mind of a woman, how the rituals of love were foreign to him, how none of it made sense.

But now Camille understood, all that came from a broken heart. She had suspected as much but was not quite sure until now.

He was still speaking, his eyes lost in a memory. Camille guessed he was speaking as much to himself rather than anyone else in the room.

“Y’know, I never realised until now what a gift she had left me with. She tried to teach me how to ‘love’ I guess and it did succeed in part. She encouraged me to be different, to express myself as she would say, but I just *couldn’t* quite manage it somehow. Just couldn’t quite...Oh, never mind. It’s all in the past anyway.”

Camille’s heart lurched again for the second time that day. When Richard had been talking his face had softened, the usual frown had vanished, his voice had been soft as well. It was almost as if she was listening to another person talking, another person emerging in front of her. But she decided not to press for more now. He would tell her in his own good time.

“Is that why you kept it? To remind you?” She asked, pointing to the calendar.

He nodded. “Yes, to remind me that at one point in my life, I did try to loosen up, be different, even to dying my hair, having an ear ring, trying to blend into student life, but it was difficult especially with my family too. I... perhaps we can leave that for another time Camille.”

She smiled at him, glad that he had opened up to her some more. His complex character was beginning to make more sense. 

“Ok, Richard. Are you sure you will be alright though? Did you want some company?”

He considered her offer for a moment but decided against it. Tonight he had started to really open up to someone else about his life. It was unnerving to him but somehow, it felt good now he had someone he could, well almost, trust. He regarded her again, considering her offer, but now was not the time.

“No, I’m fine Camille. Look I still have some things to sort out but thank you.”

Knowing he was needing to be on his own, she got up to leave.

“Richard, thank you for trusting me, I won’t say anything about this evening. But I meant what I said earlier..”

“What’s that Camille?”

“Vous avez vraiment un beau corps!” She replied, winking back at him as she headed out the door.

Richard knew what she had said, his command of French better than he would let on. But he couldn’t resist and winked back at her.

“You’re most welcome.”


End file.
